She put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no.”
“Now he’s got a piece of board in his chest. My job is to get it out and sew him up good as new.”
“Do you think you can?”
“Maybe.” He pulled in a deep breath. “If we all pray hard enough.”
Chapter Six
Arden didn’t know what to expect as she followed Griff into the barn. She only hoped she didn’t do anything to distract him from the problem at hand.
A woman stood waiting in front of a stall, her face as white as the T-shirt she wore.
“Thank God.” She grabbed Griff’s arm with both hands. “I gave him the ace, like you said. But he’s been pretty quiet overall. Didn’t give me any trouble about walking up here.”
“Good.” Griff slid back the bolt on the stall door. “Let’s take a look.”
The stallion stood in the center of the large space, motionless except for an occasional flick of his tail. He was huge and muscled, with a glossy, dark brown coat, black mane and tail, and white on his feet and nose. Right now his head hung low and his eyes were nearly closed. His breathing sounded loud in the silence.
A large towel had been clipped around the horse’s neck and chest. Griff removed it, and Arden clapped both hands over her mouth to keep from crying out. There wasn’t much blood, but the exposed muscles and the ragged end of a board protruding from the stallion’s chest made a gruesome sight.
Griff, however, surveyed the injury with a calm detachment, squatting in front of the animal to get a close look. He lifted the stallion’s lip and pressed a finger to the gum, put a stethoscope against his side and listened to several different places for quite a long time. Then he left the stall.
“He’s doing okay,” he told the owner. “His vital signs are good and he hasn’t lost much blood. His lungs and heart don’t appear to have been touched. But I don’t want to subject him to a forty-five minute trailer ride with that board in his chest. So we’ll just take it out here.”
The woman nodded. “I scrubbed the walls and floor of the wash stall with bleach while I was waiting for you.”
“Excellent. Walk him down there slowly while I get some equipment.”
Unlike his usual lazy strides, the steps Griff took back to the SUV were quick and purposeful, as were his movements when he got there, selecting the equipment he would need.
“It’s better than it could have been,” he told Arden as she stood to one side. “But that board’s in deep. The real challenge will be to remove it without leaving any splinters behind.”
“I can’t believe the horse is so calm. Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Horses can be amazingly stoic, especially when their legs aren’t involved. But the owner gave him a sedative while she waited. That’s the ‘ace’ she mentioned—acepromazine.”
“Ah.” Arden couldn’t resist asking the next stupid question. “Is there anything I can do?”
He glanced up, his blue eyes smiling. “Thanks, but I think we’re okay. I’ll let you know if I need something.”
The stainless steel tray holding his equipment rested on a stand with wheels, allowing him to push it down the barn aisle to a large, well-lit area where Rajah now stood on black rubber mats.
“I’d like to keep his head up,” Griff said. “So we’ll put on this padded halter and link it through there.” He nodded toward a chain suspended from the ceiling. “I don’t think he’ll notice, as zoned out as he is.”
In another few minutes, Rajah stood nearly upright, with sheepskin lining around his nose holding his head in a more natural position.
“Ok.” Griff rubbed his hands together, then picked up an oversize electric razor from the tray. “Time for a haircut.” He bent and began to shave Rajah’s chest.
Arden took the moment to glance along the barn aisle, which looked as clean and neat as a human dwelling. She noticed a low bench against the wall near the end, and went to bring it back.
“Perfect,” he said, sitting down without pausing in his work.
“I should have thought of that,” the owner said, standing with her hand on Rajah’s back. “Sorry.”
Arden shook her head. “You’ve got enough on your mind.”
The drone of the shaver seemed to go on forever, as Griff cleared a wide area of hair around the puncture, coming closer and closer to the torn edges. Finally he bent in and, with small, deft strokes, clipped hair from the jagged rim.
“Whew.” He sat up at last, turned off the clipper and stretched backward. Then he stayed motionless for what must have been five minutes, studying the wound.
“I need another pair of hands.” He looked at the owner and then at Arden. “And what I want you to do is not nice.”
They both stared at him without speaking. “The board has to come out. I want to be ready to deal with bleeding, if it happens. Can one of you handle the board?”
The owner moaned and put her face against Rajah’s side. “I can’t,” she whispered.
Arden took a deep breath. “How?”
“Good girl.” Griff got up and went to the tray to pick up a couple of paper-wrapped packets, handing the largest to her. “Surgery pack. Sterile. I’ll need you to open it for me in a few minutes.” Another pack contained sterile towels and the third, gloves. “I’m going to scrub up and get into the gloves. You’ll open the packets for me and lay them out. Then you’ll pull out the board—slowly, straight as you can without twisting or turning it.”
“Do I need gloves?”
“You don’t have to be sterile—the board certainly wasn’t. But you can wear gloves for your own comfort, if you want.”
Swallowing hard, she looked directly at the wound. The point of what looked like a wooden stake stuck out from Rajah’s chest about six inches.
“How much is inside?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” Griff replied. “His vitals are stable, so his chest cavity is intact. I think. I hope. With luck, there’s only a few inches, and it’ll be an easy fix.”
Arden nodded. “Okay. I’ll take some gloves.”
“They’ll be a little big.” Griff picked up a thin package, fingered the edges apart and pulled them open, revealing a pair of latex gloves. “Don’t worry about keeping them sterile.”
While Arden pulled on the gloves, Griff went to a sink in the corner. First, he scrubbed a stainless steel pan and rinsed it thoroughly. Then he began washing his hands, scrubbing all the way to his elbows with a foamy orange soap.
As they waited, Rajah’s owner looked over at Arden. “Hi. I’m Stacy. Sorry we haven’t had a chance to be introduced.” She stroked the horse’s neck near his mane. “I’m a little preoccupied.”
“I’m Arden, and I understand. I’m sure I’d be hysterical if something happened to Igor, my dog.”
“I’m just so glad Griff could come.” Stacy glanced at the corner, where he was still scrubbing. “He’s always so calm and reassuring. Knows exactly what to do.” She drew a deep breath. “Even when a horse has been this unbelievably idiotic.”
Griff joined them beside the animal, his hands held in the air, still dripping. “You’ll need to get the faucet, Stacy.” Then he stepped toward the tray. “Open the middle-size packet, like I did the gloves—by pulling the edges apart,” he told Arden. “The towels inside are sterile, so I’ll use one to dry my hands, and I’ll spread another one on the tray. Then I’ll need another pair of sterile gloves.”
She did as he asked, easily opening the package and holding it steady while he took out a towel. “Good job,” he said. “You didn’t fumble at all.”
Arden hadn’t expected to fumble. Her arms were strong and her fingers nimble, thanks to twenty-five years of violin work. Her ears were the problem, not her hands.
Griff pulled on the sterile gloves before opening the largest packet on the tray—a set of surgical tools, including scissors, and thread for stitching.
Then he blew out a quick, hard breath. “Okay. Raj here’s still looking good, so w
e’re gonna do this thing. Ready, Arden?”
“Yes.”
“Start with one hand, thumb and two fingers holding the board. Move it slightly back and forth. Yes? Easy? Good.”
Step by step, he gave her directions in a clear, quiet tone. Arden fixed her eyes on the board but kept her mind still, allowing Griff’s voice and thoughts to flow through to her hands, as if they were his own.
“Okay, that’s good. Yeah, pull—gentle, slow. Right. Keep pulling…yeah…yeah. Oops. Probably shifted a little when he moved afterward. Just back up a little, side to side. Okay, maybe a tiny twist, a little more twist… Right. Good, keep on, just slow, slow, slow. Good. Yes…okay, back up again, wiggle, a little twist, then pull, yes, yes, you’re doing fine. Okay, okay, okay—yes!! Throw that damn board in the trash.”
He grinned at her, and Arden grinned back, holding the wretched piece of lumber between her hands.
Then he shouldered her out of the way to step in front of the horse. “Stacy, get that big bottle of sterile saline on the floor and pour it into my pan. I’m gonna scrub the chest area, clean out this wound and get our boy here back to business.”
By the time Griff retreated and stripped off his gloves, Rajah had started to wake up. Stacy loosened the rope to the halter, freeing his head, and he looked around, eyes still half closed, but brighter and more aware than Arden had yet seen them.
“He is gorgeous,” she said.
“And he makes beautiful babies.” Stacy smiled for the first time in the last three hours. “His reputation as a quality stud is getting around—we even had a couple of inquiries from Europe this year.”
Then she looked at Griff, whose shirt and slacks were liberally stained with red blood and orange soap. “You, however are not beautiful.”
“The near future includes a shower and change of clothes,” he promised. “I just have to get the mess I made cleaned up.”
Arden stepped forward. “I can help with that.”
“Thanks.” He sounded tired. “Just throw the instruments into the basin, then wrap everything else up in the biggest drape. We’ll tape it up and throw it all out. Careful of the needles and blades—see ’em?”
“I do.” She followed instructions, listening as Griff explained how Stacy should treat the wound, what kind of adverse signs to look for and when to call him.
“I’ll be back out tomorrow afternoon, unless I hear from you before that.” He put a hand on Stacy’s shoulder. “I really do think he’s going to be fine and go on to sire at least two Triple Crown winners.”
Stacy actually laughed. “I hope you’re right.”
“Always,” he told her. “Keep him in the stall but don’t worry if he lies down. I’d be thrilled if he felt like rolling, so don’t worry about that, either. Take his temperature every three hours or so, unless he seems punk, then take it right away. Most important of all…”
He looked at her, frowning, and Stacy’s eyes widened with alarm. “What? What should I do?”
“Get yourself something to eat. Get some rest. Don’t stand up all night watching the horse.”
She allowed her whole body to sag in relief. “Yes, sir. I’ll do that.”
“Good.” He glanced around the area, but Arden had checked to see that she had gathered everything they came with. “I think we’ll do the same ourselves, for now.”
Stacy walked them to the truck, thanking them profusely. “I’m so glad you were here to help,” she told Arden. “I don’t think my brain started working until that board went into the trash can.”
“I’m glad to meet you and Rajah,” Arden replied. “Do give yourself a chance to relax.”
“I will.” Stacy closed her door and backed away as Griff started the engine. She was still waving when they went down the hill and out of sight.
At the bottom of the slope, Griff braked and put the truck into Park. Then he slumped in the seat, letting his hands drop to his sides and his head fall back.
“Man,” he said, with a long sigh.
“Tired?”
He put his palms to his face, pressing his fingers against his eyes. “I haven’t focused that hard, that long, on anything this last six months.”
“That’s quite a case to come back to.”
“I would have chosen a nice, easy dog spay my first day back. But you don’t get to pick and choose. That’s what keeps the work interesting.” He paused. “More or less.”
She wondered at that addition, but didn’t comment. “Would you like me to drive? If you stay awake and give directions, I don’t mind.”
“No, I’m fine.” He straightened and shifted back to Drive. “Again I have to say that you are a woman of many mysteries. I could almost believe you’ve taken nursing training of some kind. You were a big help, and I know Stacy appreciates that as much as I do.”
“I’m glad I could contribute to the process of getting Rajah healed.”
“Have you spent time with horses? Done some riding?”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Are you interested in trying? We could take a couple of the horses for a walk tomorrow, see the rest of the farm. We’ve got an older mare who can be trusted with the greenest of greenhorns.”
“Does that mean me?”
“Yeah—somebody who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”
“I’m not sure. Let me think about it.” Sports had never been part of her life. She rarely exercised, other than her walks with Igor. And horses…what if she fell off? She’d never had a broken bone in her life, not even a sprained ankle.
Really, though, what did she have to lose? Her hands, once insured for a million dollars, were now worthless. She’d been sitting on an island for the last year doing absolutely nothing…except being bored.
“Let’s do it,” she told him. “I’m ready to try something new.”
THE AFTERNOON SHADOWS HAD lengthened by the time they picked up the bike and got back to his parents’ house. But the house itself was empty.
“Dad’s still at work, of course.” Griff had called the office during their drive. to make his report. “Mom’s classes end at two-thirty, but she could have had a faculty meeting. Or gone to the gym, the grocery store, or to one of my sisters’ houses. Who knows?”
He looked down at himself. “I need a shower and new clothes. Come upstairs with me.” When she looked dubious, he smiled. “There’s a sitting area where we all kind of hang out. You can wait there while I change.”
Arden followed him up the steps. “This is a very large house. Did your parents build it?”
“My grandparents did the building.” He flipped switches as they climbed, bringing light into the darkened house. “They had six kids—all meant to help with the farm work, of course. But Dad went off to college, the four girls got married to business types and my uncle went into the army. So Granddad gave up farming and moved with my grandmother to a retirement community in Tampa.”
“Did you visit while you were there?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know what I’d say to this crusty old guy who spent most of his life wrestling food out of the red Georgia clay.” Yet another example of his overall failure this last year. But Arden didn’t need to bear that burden. He gestured to the U-shaped arrangement of recliner couches. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable.”
Once in his room, he started to unbutton his shirt and then stuck his head back out the door. “You can peek at my room, if you want to.”
She looked so shocked and appalled at the idea, he couldn’t help chuckling all the way through his shower.
After taking the time to shave again, he dried off and pulled on his jeans, but was still carrying his shirt with two fingers when he returned to his bedroom and found Arden staring at him from across the room.
“You said I could look,” she said, her cheeks turning bright pink. “I didn’t hear the water cut off.”
Grinning, he leaned against the door frame
and crossed his arms. “No, the plumbing is pretty quiet. Be my guest.”
She turned back to the bookshelf. “You really are a history buff. Churchill’s history of World War II, The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, and all these other thick tomes full of facts. No comic books for you?”
“Are you kidding?” He went to the chest in the corner and pulled out the first drawer. “What’s your pleasure? Batman? Spiderman, Fantastic Four, Daredevil…and these are only the early issues. I’ve got more boxes in the attic.”
Standing beside him, she laughed. “I understand. Looks like you read almost anything you could get your hands on.”
Griff closed the drawer. “That would be correct. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t read.”
“I don’t see much in the way of sports trophies.” She leaned back against the chest. “But surely you were an athlete.”
“Why would you say that?”
He watched her gaze travel down the length of his body and up again, only then remembering he was standing there without a shirt on.
“You’re in great physical shape.” She spoke slowly, her voice a little deeper than usual. “You have a long stride and big hands.”
His whole body tightened, belly and thighs and chest, arms and rear end, the muscles growing thick with tension. He cleared his throat. “Thanks. I, uh, played basketball, baseball. I’ve been on horseback since I was four or five. Swimming, running. Whatever seemed interesting at the time.”
Only one physical activity, however, could possibly interest him at this very moment.
“Did you work construction on your six months off?” Arden had, incredibly, taken a step closer. “You’ve got a good tan.”
He wasn’t sure his brain retained enough blood supply to answer even simple questions. “I volunteered at some, uh, animal clinics on the islands. Most of them needed structural repairs. So, yeah, I worked construction.”
Her hand alighted on his arm. “That doesn’t sound like the wastrel you first implied you were.” She stroked up to his shoulder. “I’m not the only one with mysteries, Dr. Campbell.”
“Let’s clear this one up right away. Are you by any chance seducing me?”
A Convenient Proposal Page 9